


Something Borrowed, Something Blue

by leet911



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Ficlet Collection, Marriage Proposal, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leet911/pseuds/leet911
Summary: My collection of Beau/Jester mini fics.Jester’s done being subtle. She’s the one arranging rooms for the Mighty Nein this time around, and she knows exactly what to ask for. Jester asks for rooms with one bed, because she’s read those types of stories, and they always start this way.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These were originally posted to Twitter/Tumblr, and I'm collecting them here for posterity. I'll keep adding to this whenever I feel like I've got enough to make another "chapter".
> 
> For the most part, these drabbles are things I don't really plan to turn into longer fics. Please leave a comment if there's one in particular you enjoy, or one you'd like to see expanded on.

* * *

**Drink**

Jester doesn’t know what prompted this pattern of behaviour, where Beau goes out every night with Nott and comes back to their room drunk. Some nights, Jester waits up, whether out of guilt or responsibility she’s not sure. And when she does, she hears the words that Beau speaks to her in the dark.

Mostly, Beau says innocuous things. Things like “Goodnight, Jes” or “You’re a great friend.“ Sometimes, Beau says things that Jester hopes are closer to the truth, “You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met”. And once in a while, Beau will surprise her with something poetic and touching, “You are rainforest butterfly drinking dew from the moon, and so damn beautiful I’m afraid I’ll break you somehow.”

But in the mornings, Beau is steel and ice, and never quite that open with her, so Jester cries inside. And Jester knows that Beau can’t possibly be in love with her. There was Yasha, then Keg, and Reani. And Beau’s never shown the slightest interest in her, right? Even if she does sometimes say those things that sound an awful lot like lines from love stories.

* * *

**One Bed**

The thing that hurts Jester the most, is that Beau believes she could just walk away and leave, and that they wouldn’t miss her. That the Mighty Nein would be all right without Beau. That Jester would just go on without her. That’s the part killing Jester inside.

So Jester’s done being subtle. She’s the one arranging rooms for the Mighty Nein this time around, and she knows exactly what to ask for. Jester asks for rooms with one bed, because she’s read those types of stories, and they always start this way.

* * *

**Laugh**

Beau laughs, not because Jester’s birth name is Geneviève, but because Jester has a different birth name at all. She laughs, because she knows if she doesn’t, she will lash out. The way Beau deals with emotion has always been laughter or anger.

So she laughs, and covers her mouth, because her palms are suddenly sweaty. Jester is supposed to be the bubbly one. But maybe their little blue tiefling is just as damaged as the rest of them. And maybe Jester is stronger than any of them know.

Beau can’t help but think then, that Jester is the one living the dream, running off to chase her own adventure, friends at her back, with no name but the one she gives herself. So Beau laughs, because she feels envious, and weak, and even more hopelessly in love.

* * *

**Magic**

The day that Artagan left, Jester’s spells went away too. She sat for a long time on the beach of Nicodranas, looking out over the ocean with tears falling from her face.

And Beau sat with her, even as the sun started to set and Jester took out her paints. The tiefling’s motions were quick and angry and exaggerated, wide strokes of brushing punctuated with short stabs. She painted, and cried, and Beau watched in silence.

The monk watched the scene form, a sunset over the ocean, an impossible door hovering just above it, and the most fleeting glimpse of a green cloak disappearing through it. And on the beach nearby, two blue girls, holding hands, looking up towards the open sky and the future.

Then Beau was crying too, because even though there were no words between them, she knew that there was still magic in those hands.

And that there always would be.

* * *

**Flirt**

Beau flirts, because that’s just what she does. Keep trying, and see what sticks. And maybe Yasha wasn’t around for awhile. Maybe Yasha had nearly killed her when she came back, but Beau flirts, and it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Now it makes Beau feel guilty.

Sometimes Jester is nearby, and Beau thinks that maybe Jester will be jealous this time, maybe Jester will hear her, and realize, and do… something. But the tiefling never does. Jester smiles, waggles her eyebrows at the two of them, and laughs it off.

Because Yasha is healing. Yasha might be starting to believe she belongs again. Yasha responds, jokes back. And Beau can’t help feeling like she’s lying to herself.

* * *

**Offering**

Jester offers to Beau the painting she’s done of the monk. And it’s beautiful of course, far more beautiful than Beau sees herself, but it feels strange to accept. “It just seems weird to have a picture of myself, like something rich people do. Why don’t you keep it?”

Jester’s face falls, and she’s a little bit sad, because she thinks this might be the best painting she’s ever done, and she really wanted Beau to have it. “What would you want to have then?”

“Why don’t you paint yourself? I’d like that. Or add yourself to this, and it can be a painting with both of us.”

And Beau worries sometimes, that they won’t have anything to remember each other by, because it is not safe work that they do. It’s important work, but it’s just as important to Beau for Jester to have good memories, to know true happiness. Because tomorrow they go to the Prism Sage, and Beau has only one thing to trade.

* * *

**Ring**

Beau spends four nights tinkering with her jeweler’s kit before conceding defeat. This is not something she can do sitting in bed with goggles. She needs a workshop. Because she wants to make a ring, and she’s never done that before. Then again, Beau has also decided to propose, and she’s never done anything like that before either.

She gets Yasha and Nott to cover for her, distract Jester, make up excuses. And after three weeks of sneaking out to the jeweler’s shop up the street, she has a silver band, inlaid with jade, and crowned with sapphires. And Beau isn’t sure how she feels about rings, but she is sure about her feelings for Jester. Because even though they never talk about the future, Jester is always there in all of Beau’s visions, and Beau can’t imagine their life any other way.

So when she finally greets Jester that day, it’s cupcake in hand, ring nestled neatly in the frosting, and tingles throughout her body. And she’s supposed to think of something witty to say, something heartfelt and meaningful. Because all that time ago, when they stood outside the witch’s hut, it was not Isharnai from which Jester saved Beau, but rather from Beau herself.

Jester smiles at the cupcake, and Beau, oblivious. Beau kneels, because that’s what people do. Her words are nervous and stilted, stumbling and raw. “You told me once that blueberry was your favourite flavour, so this is for you. Save me again?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The proposal bit has a companion piece which starts the next "chapter".


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to quillandinkblog for the prompt which led to the first drabble here.

* * *

**Fluffernutter**

Jester has a word for these sorts of situations, the ones that seem like great ideas and then don’t go according to plan. She likes to call them _fluffernutters_. And she’s got herself in a bit of a fluffernutter now.

It was mostly Veth’s fault. Last week, Jester had asked Veth what to do about Beau. Maybe Veth was just a little short on patience that day, trying to concentrate on the alchemical contraption she was building. And maybe Jester had been gushing just a little bit too much, and not paying attention to the fact that Yeza was still far away in another city, and Veth probably missed her family.

So Jester was spouting about Beau, and her tattoo, and her scars, and her hands and her smarts, when Veth said, “Why don’t you marry her then?” Which had made perfect sense.

In retrospect, Veth’s words were probably meant to be dismissive. But here they are now, Jester with an engagement ring burning a hole in her pocket, and Beau kneeling in front of her, cupcake held out, with a ring of her own peeking out from the frosting. _Fluffernutter!_

Part of her wants to scream, clap her hands, jump up and down, kiss Beau. Another part of her is terrified, because even though she practiced exactly what to say, this is not how it was supposed to go. Jester blinks, tears in her eyes and her heart pounding. Her mouth is moving, but there are no words, and Beau is asking for salvation.

But then a blue hand comes out of a dress pocket, and in the palm is a diamond ring. Jester drops to her knees alongside Beau, wraps her in a crushing hug. But their hands are moving, exchanging bands so that they are wearing each other’s rings.

The tiefling looks down at her own finger, where small gemstones are streaked with cupcake frosting, and she loves it even more than she thought possible. When their eyes meet, Jester smiles, a perfect beaming smile underneath her tears. And Beau laughs, whether from stress or relief, Jester isn’t sure. Because even though Jester still hasn’t said a word, they both know this is “always”.

* * *

**Resurrection**

The time they resurrect Jester, Beau can't find any words. Caduceus starts the ritual, and Fjord is the first to speak on Jester's behalf. Fjord talks about faith, and friendship, and family, and fate. Then Caleb steps up, and his words are just as perfect. His words are powerful, emotional, and they all feel like there aren't enough tears left.

When Caleb finishes, he looks towards Beauregard, expectant. And Beau doesn't know what to do. Beau doesn't know what to say. She is frozen. Because everyone loves Jester, and Beau doesn't feel special enough to deserve this.

So Yasha is the one who saves her. Yasha is the one stepping forward to talk about the mural in her room and how she still hasn't found the hidden dick yet, so of course Jester can't leave them.

And it works. The magic swells around Caduceus, the laughter of the Traveler echoes in their ears, and Jester breathes. Beau breathes again too.

When Jester sits up, Beau collapses next to her, and wraps her in an endless hug. And Beau knows that she can't ask for this, that she can't possibly deserve Jester, but the whisper escapes her regardless. "Can I stay with you?"

* * *

**Fight**

Jester has always imagined that Beau loves the same way she fights. Because Beau used to be brash and stubborn, charging into battle without a thought, putting herself on the line. She used to dive right into the fray, try to show off, and go down swinging. But she looked so good doing it, that Jester was always excited.

Nowadays, Beau is wiser, and so much more patient. She is cautious and measured, focused and fluid. Watching her though, Jester is just as exhilarated. Beau feels the ebb and flow of the fight, then applies her skills in just the right place, strong, fast, and decisive.

And Jester doesn’t know exactly what that means for Beau’s love life, but sometimes she thinks she’d like to find out.

* * *

**Love Stories**

“I forgot I even had that,” Jester says, tossing out her copy of _Tusk Love_. She keeps digging in her pack though, chasing that elusive last donut she’s sure she had saved for later (now).

Beau picks up the book, flips through it absently. She knows she’s told Jester that real life isn't like those love stories. There's no prince or rugged warrior who will come sweep her off her feet. Real life is messy, never quite that simple, and maybe just a little bit embarrassing. Because Beau is in love with Jester, and it's not at all like _Tusk Love_. It's like some of those other books which Beau has read, but Jester has not -- books about falling in love with your best friend, books about fear and doubt, about yearning and decidedly not platonic love.

So when Jester screams success, holds up the donut, and shakes the bag triumphantly, Beau is giggling. They are dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon, sweet fragrant glitter that clings to their hair and clothes. And Beau knows that Expositors shouldn't laugh at silliness, but she can't help it when it's Jester. Jester's antics are funny, and cute, and Beau gets so awkward because sometimes it feels like she’s melting inside.

The tiefling takes a big bite before offering the pastry to Beau, but the monk shakes her head. “Why did you stop reading this?”

"I used to read those romance books to feel in love, but now I don’t think I need them anymore.”

And Beau finds that strange, because Jester deserves all the love, and there’s no reason she wouldn’t want that. “Why not?”

“Because you’re right here with me," and Jester kisses her on the nose.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting a little longer than drabbles probably, but it feels good to write again, and as long as inspiration keeps coming, I'll keep posting them.

* * *

**Love**

Some nights, Jester lies awake in bed and thinks about love. She’s read the books, the ones where they talk about love like fire and water, like volcanoes and lava and oceans and drowning. Jester doesn’t know about those things.

When she’s with Fjord, she doesn’t feel any of that. Fjord is nice enough to look at. He’s friendly and kind and strong, and Jester can’t imagine their little band without him. But when she looks at him, she doesn’t feel butterflies in her stomach or tingles in her toes. She doesn’t have to hold her tail to keep it from dancing on its own.

Those feelings are reserved for a certain bronze-skinned monk who tries really hard to be nice, but somehow never has to try with Jester. With Jester, Beau is suave, but sincere, sometimes stammering and shy. Beau is brilliance and brawn and mumbled words in the dark.

“Go to sleep, Jes. I can hear your heavy breathing.”

When Beau smiles at her, Jester pulls the sheet overhead, because her heart is beating too fast and her face is just a little bit hot. And this feels a lot like love, so Jester thinks they must be doing it wrong.

* * *

**Home**

The first time Beau ran away from home, she had four copper pieces and a half-eaten cookie in her back pocket. And Beau isn’t a child anymore, but sometimes she still feels the urge to run. She doesn’t know where she’ll go. She’s not sure it matters. She only knows that the Mighty Nein have each found their own way, and now it’s time to go home. **  
**

Veth is restored, both in body and family.

Caduceus has rescued his homeland, retrieved his kin.

Fjord has found purpose, and power far different from what he imagined.

Yasha is absolved, her angel’s wings a reminder of the peace she’s discovered.

Jester has seen the face of her god, and laughed along with him.

Even Caleb has found a measure of forgiveness for himself and his tortured past.

But Beau is here, outside the Lavish Chateau, clutching unsent letters to TJ in her hands, and thinking about Mollymauk. _Leave every place better than you find it._ And maybe the Mighty Nein aren’t a place, but Beau is proud of what they’ve done. Because in addition to stopping a war, they’ve changed each other, made each other better. It’s just that Beau still feels like she’s running.

One by one, they say their farewells and take to mounts or magic, until only Beau and Jester remain. The tears have been kept at bay, but only because they’ve all cried them out last night, knowing that today was goodbye. Beau isn’t sure she has any tears left.

And Beau doesn’t know why she is the last one to leave, out of some unspoken agreement. Maybe it’s because she and Jester have been best friends as long as they’ve known each other, always been roommates, always been special to each other somehow. Or at least, Beau likes to think so.

“Where will you go?” Jester asks.

“I…” Beau holds up the papers in her hands, picks the easy answer even though it might not be true, “To Kamordah, to see my brother.” This is the first time she’s mentioned going back to that place, the one that doesn’t feel like home anymore. Maybe it never felt like home.

“Ok,” the tiefling nods, licks her lips. “I’ll miss you.”

Maybe this is running away. “Goodbye, Jester.” Beau mounts the waiting horse and rides off without looking back. The wind whips at her face and dries the tears which do spill out regardless.

So she is miles out of town when a familiar lilting accent stops her, speaking straight into her mind. “You told me once that your name means beautiful and that you never thought you’d live up to it even though I knew better. Beau-” There’s a pause, and before the monk can even think of answering, Jester continues, “Please don’t go. I love you.”

Beau’s heart leaps as she waits for more, expecting a rush of words to follow, but there are none. So she is the one who speaks. “I love you too, Jes. I’m not leaving.”

And Beau turns her horse around, towards home.

* * *

**Touch**

Beau is a tactile person. Jester knows this. She knows Beau doesn’t mean anything by it when she runs her hand down Jester’s arm. It’s just Beau’s way of getting her attention, reassuring her. Because the monk is here, standing close, squeezing their hands together and whispering words of encouragement. “Don’t worry,” Beau says, “you’ll do great.”

They are backstage, and Jester is peeking out at the crowd, at the faces of those who have made the journey to TravelerCon. She has goosebumps all of a sudden, she’s self-conscious about how sweaty her palms are, and she wonders if Beau noticed. Because Jester isn’t nervous about the crowd, or her speech, or the magic tricks they’re about to do in the name of the Traveler. What Jester is really nervous about, is how close Beau is, the hand in her hand, the way their fingers lay over each other, the way Beau smells — like winter and lightning and honey.

When their eyes meet, Jester blinks back tears, because Beau’s smile is soft and unguarded. “You know the Traveler doesn’t make you who you are, right? No matter what happens, I’m here.”

And Jester’s never been in love before (not for real), but she thinks this must be what it feels like — this swelling in her chest that makes her want to hold Beau, this ache in her lips that needs to kiss Beau just to prove to itself that it can never be soothed. So Jester takes the leap, turns to Beau and presses their lips together, before running onto the stage.

The crowd erupts, even as she waves and bows, and it’s only her voice booming with thaumaturgy that quiets the cheers. “Welcome to TravelerCon! I’m Jester!” And she launches into her carefully prepared speech without daring to look back.

Because the thing that scares Jester the most, is that she can’t even remember anymore, what it’s like not to be in love.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send me prompts! I make no promises, but it can't hurt to ask.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**Four Kinds of Pretty**

Jester is glitter, and sweets, and flowing dresses, and hamster unicorns. Everyone thinks Jester is pretty. They say so all the time. No one says Beau is pretty, but Jester knows she is. Beau is pretty in her own ways.

Studying Beau is pretty, sitting cross-legged with her back perfectly straight even as she pores over tomes, concentrating so much that sweat drops form on her brow. Studying Beau is fierce, and determined, and so very clever. Studying Beau makes Jester proud. Because no matter how terrible Beau thinks she is sometimes, this shows Jester that none of it is true.

Sleeping Beau is pretty, the way she snores when her chin is tucked into her chest, the way her hair falls over her mouth, the way it dances with every exhalation. Sleeping Beau is soft, and gentle, and a compulsive hugger when she’s close. But Jester doesn’t mind.

Fighting Beau is pretty, when she punches you in the gut with a smile, when she licks the blood from her split lip. Fighting Beau eyes you with relish and never holds back. Jester remembers being on the receiving end of that. She remembers screaming, and laughing, and crying, and inflicting wounds. Jester remembers being the focus of Beau’s attention and loving it without knowing why. But that was back when they were just friends and everything else seemed impossible.

Laughing Beau is prettiest of all, when she actually laughs for real – not the forced laughter Beau can drum up on demand. Actual laughing Beau is charming, the way her face crinkles, the way her eyes light up, the way the sound starts from her stomach before bursting forth. Laughing Beau is beautiful, and if Jester is honest with herself, sometimes her crazy pranks are just to get that rise out of Beau.

So they are lying in bed, about to turn in for the night, and Jester is feeling warm. “Hey Beeeaaauuu,” she calls, drawing out the one syllable in the monk’s name.

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty when you smile.”

And Beau laughs for real.

* * *

  
  


**Beau, Unadulterated**

Beau remembers not caring, or at least pretending not to care. Before, she never put too much thought into her feelings about Jester. Beau just didn't think about those sorts of things. Most of the time, Beau took action. She flirted when she felt like it, because she could. And Beau used to think that Jester was innocent, and maybe just a little too naive, so she never really flirted with Jester before. Not on purpose.

And she knows that Jester is attractive, of course, but lots of people are attractive, and Beau had never let that get in the way of anything. So now they're friends, and roommates, because that's just how things turned out. And Beau can't remember whose idea it was the first time around anyway (it was probably out of necessity), but now they always room together.

Nowadays, they sit next to each other before bed, and Beau thinks way too much. She touches the circlet around her head, wonders if her hurtling thoughts are really her own. Because she can’t deny the utility of this headband. It keeps her focused, helps with investigation and research, and Jester’s woven it so perfectly into her hair.

But Beau knows this isn’t really her. This is the enhanced version, where she gets a little magical help. And she’s not sure she likes this, because she’s far too self-conscious. All of her jokes seem dumb. They come to mind just as fast (maybe faster even), but they get blurted out all the same. What’s worse is how transparent Beau is to herself now. All her little hints are so obvious, right there to be deciphered if Jester were attentive. Things were simpler, when she could live and feel without thinking, when she could just be herself and consequences be damned.

The circlet is pretty though. At least Jester says so, “You look super cool, Beau, not princess-y at all.”

And that’s mostly why Beau keeps it. She can’t help hanging onto Jester’s every word, reading far too much into them with her newfound intellect.

“You look like a badass,” the tiefling continues, and Beau likes to think that Jester admires badasses. “But a pretty badass, with like jewels and abs and stuff,” Jester finishes.

“You make me feel pretty.” Beau smiles and kicks herself mentally.  _ Too obvious _ .

* * *

  
  


**Favourites**

It’s early morning when Yasha sneaks up on Beau. The monk is focused inwards, eyes closed as she practices a routine with her staff. It’s an eerie deadly dance of flips and limbs and strikes that Yasha can appreciate.

So when Beau opens her eyes, she’s surprised to find Yasha waiting for her, a bouquet in hand and trepidation on her face. The aasimar speaks, before Beau can, a jumble of words that feel rehearsed but rushed. "I don't know what kind of flowers you like, or if you even like flowers at all, but you told me once your favourite color was blue, so here you go."

Beau doesn't tell Yasha that she used to think favourite colours were stupid, because they're just colours. She doesn't say that maybe the reason she likes blue is because of Jester, and that it wouldn't be fair to Yasha to accept these. And yet Beau holds out her hand, and the bouquet is thrust into her grip.

The flowers are beautiful of course, a carefully crafted selection of wildflowers replete with vibrant hues of blue. They smell like springtime and berries, and in the crisp morning dew, Beau can’t help but be reminded of Jester’s hair.

“Thank you,” she says calmly, but inside she is screaming.

“I should go,” Yasha gestures towards the staff, “let you get back to it.”

Beau nods, resumes her training. But her movements are abrupt now, inattentive. She is not thinking about her form. She is thinking about blue hair and violet eyes, about sapphire skin sparkling in the sunlight, and laughter echoing in her ears. Her staff rends the air, her kicks crack hard against unseen opponents, and still Beau feels weak.

* * *


End file.
